


contrapasso

by s_coups



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Character Death, Computer Programming, Jihoon drinks a lot of whiskey, M/M, Minor Character Death, Very brief mentions of violence, Westworld AU, hosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-14 18:33:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9198005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_coups/pseuds/s_coups
Summary: jihoon doesn't believe in human compassion in hosts, jihoon doesn't believe in the emotional range of humans. jihoon just codes in it's simplest form, and hopes for the best.





	

**Author's Note:**

> as you can probably guess, this was inspired by HBO's series Westworld, which is just a giant mindfuck of a show and I really recommend you watch if you enjoy this fic. I've been meaning to write an android/robot au for awhile now so this was a perfect opportunity. once again thank you to katie for beta'ing ♡ I also created a playlist to go along with this fic, so if you'd like to listen you can [listen to it here](https://8tracks.com/efirny/contrapasso)
> 
> for reference or anyone wondering, contrapasso is a latin word that refers to dante's idea that when one goes to hell, the punishment they receive matches whatever sin they committed to end up there in the first place.

 

 _Like the rest, we shall return to claim our bodies,_  
_but never again to wear them – wrong it is_  
_for a man to have again what he once cast off._

 _We shall drag them here and, all along the mournful_  
_forest, our bodies shall hang forever more,_  
_each one on a thorn of its own alien shade._

 _-_ Dante's _Inferno_

 

Purely out of self protection, Jihoon makes sure not to get too engrossed in each personality he gives his hosts. It's important to know when to draw the line, he believes. Despite being in charge of the code for their emotional range, and designing intricate and unique personalities for each host, Seungcheol had warned him he'll find it difficult to immerse himself so deeply in coding a character when he has a personal connection for them. It hasn't happened in a while- as everyone takes extra precaution- but there are stories of Coders who had fallen in love with the host they themselves had designed into their ideal partner, and the result had driven them insane simply because they couldn't find it within the host (which was, at the end of the day, not a human being) to have the full emotional range they themselves felt. Jihoon never felt a connection with any of his designed hosts, but he's still wary.

The host before him- Junghan, he's named him- sits naked on his lab table, back straight, eyes forward. Junghan is disconnected at the moment, Jihoon reviewing the skin grafts along his outer thigh that had been reconnected earlier that morning. Junghan had gotten attacked by someone while protecting a human, and had been sent back to the labs to be healed and have his memories erased.

"Unfreeze," Jihoon murmurs, swiping along his tablet as he scrolls through Junghan's coding. Junghan blinks slowly, head tilting just the slightest as he's connected again.

"Hi," Junghan says, and Jihoon smiles without looking up.

"Hello, Junghan," He replies. "Do you remember me?"

Junghan nods. "Yes. You designed me."

"Do you know why you're here?"

"Someone tried to steal a woman's bag, and when I helped her, the man attacked me instead."

Jihoon nods, finally looking up. "That's right. Where were you working before you were attacked, Junghan?"

"I was helping the nuns at the orphanage," Junghan breathes out, and as he says this his eyes turn glassy. "There are so many abandoned children, oh, it's just awful." His eyes well up and tears start to spill. He sniffles. "One of my favorites, his name was-"

"Control your emotional stall," Jihoon orders. "Stop crying."

Junghan immediately stops, face going blank once again and eyes drying. He stares at Jihoon as though waiting for another command. Jihoon looks back down at his tablet.

"I'm going to erase your memories, Junghan," Jihoon explains, closing his coding and instead opening up the program to clear his memories. "You're going to start over, and be assigned to a different work task." He types in his password, pressing his fingerprint against the screen and waiting for the large, red square that read " _ERASE ALL MEMORIES_ " to appear.

"Why would you do that?" Junghan asks. "I loved those children."

"You were just a host to them. You don't have to worry about them anymore."

"Please don't do that," Junghan whispers. "I'd like to remember them. My favorite was-"

Jihoon sighs heavily. "Freeze."

Junghan stiffens on the spot, back straightening and face melting into a blank expression once again as he's disconnected. Jihoon taps the red square and watches the progress bar slowly fill, wiping Junghan's mind clean. When it reads " _CLEAR"_ in big green letters, Jihoon clears his throat and places his tablet down beside him.

"Unfreeze," He murmurs again.

 

"We have... an issue."

Jihoon sits in Seungcheol's office, watches the older man twirl a pen between his fingers so quickly it's almost a blur. To the right, behind his desk, a woman stands, perfectly still, blonde hair not even shifting from the soft breeze of the air conditioner in the room. Jihoon knows her; Her name is Jieqiong, and another Coder had designed her specifically to act as Seungcheol's assistant.

"What's the issue?" Jihoon asks.

Seungcheol sighs and leans back against his desk, placing the pen down and instead rubbing at his forehead. "Several unclassified hosts got loose."

Jihoon frowns. Unclassified hosts were hosts that had not been properly coded yet, or had not passed the Turing test and were still under lockdown and prohibited from interacting with human beings in society until they were deemed safe. Most of the unclassifieds were stored in a large, heavily guarded room in the basement of the bottom floors laboratory.

"How did they get loose? Unless they harmed a human, which isn't in any of their coding, there's no way they could-"

"Wonwoo released them," Seungcheol says dully, and Jihoon lets out an aggravated sigh through his teeth.

Of course Wonwoo released them. Wonwoo was a Coder who had been working for Seungcheol longer than Jihoon had, and as time had passed it was obvious his opinions on how hosts should be coded, and deemed classified versus unclassified, clashed heavily with the laws Seungcheol implemented for humans safety. He was a bit of a hot head, and unpredictable, but Jihoon never thought he'd go as far as releasing unclassifieds.

"Of course Wonwoo released them," Jihoon mutters. "Where is he?"

"We don't know," Seungcheol admits. "He's run off and isn't on our radar anymore. We think he's fled the country."

"How many did he let out?"

Seungcheol grimaces. "Almost six. I'm waiting on the files from the laboratory so we can identify and start searching for them, but I wanted to speak with you about it first. I know you've been working on a device that can recognize hosts from humans, and I thought it might help."

"It's still in the earliest stages," Jihoon says. "It's not even a prototype yet, just blueprints."

"I was hoping you might be able to tinker with it so that it could recognize hosts that didn't meet code regulations. It would make finding the unclassified hosts a hell of a lot easier."

Jihoon nods. "It would, but I'd need to make a prototype that first can differentiate hosts from humans in general. From there I can input the regulated coding and see if I can tweak it to recognize unclassifieds."

Seungcheol smiles at him, standing straight so he can come around his desk and sit in his chair. "Unfreeze."

Jieqiong jerks back to life beside him, blank face easing into a smile as she looks fondly at Seungcheol. He doesn't look at her, but nods instead at the door. "Jieqiong, go see if the laboratory on five has the information I asked them for this morning. If so, get me two copies so I can give one to Jihoon."

Jieqiong nods. "Right away, sir," She says softly, in her accented Korean, and moves swiftly to the door. Jihoon thinks it's interesting that her Coder implemented her to have an accent, but perhaps that was something Seungcheol had personally requested. He was a strange man in general.

"It'll be very helpful if you can develop a device like that as soon as possible," Seungcheol says. "The sooner we track down these unclassified hosts and get them off the streets, the better for everyone."

"I'll try my best."

 

Jihoon usually stays at work later than everyone else (except Seungcheol, of course, but Jihoon was convinced the elder just slept in his office, because he was always there when everyone arrived, and was the last one left when they departed.) Today, however, Jihoon packs up early, his mind racing with thoughts of unclassifieds and Wonwoo's whereabouts. He and Wonwoo had always been close, the top coders of the company, and a small voice in the back of his head wonders repeatedly why Wonwoo hadn't contacted Jihoon about what had happened. Obviously, the rational side of his mind argued, it was because he was on the run, and Jihoon was technically part of the enemy. But still.

He clocks out and passes through the metal detectors, nodding at the familiar face of Seokmin, a host Wonwoo had coded. Seokmin smiles at him, waving goodbye when Jihoon pushes open the front doors and steps out into the rain.

Of course it was raining. Just his luck, he didn't have an umbrella. Cars speed by, spraying dirty street water onto the sidewalks. He stands under the safety of the buildings entrance for a few moments, watching people scurry by under umbrellas, some of them holding jackets or even briefcases above their head as protection. He can tell which ones are hosts as they simply walk through the rain as though it weren't there, oblivious. He grits his teeth and follows their lead, stepping out into the rain in the general direction of his apartment.

It's still early, but the sky is bleary and dark, clouds rolling in from the east and thunder rumbling behind them. He lives relatively close to the building, just a ten minute walk, and he's only a few blocks over when someone suddenly grabs his elbow in passing, pulling him under the shelter of the awning of another building.

It's a man whose grabbed him, a whole head taller than him with tan skin, sharp eyes and sharper teeth. He grins at Jihoon, and in such close proximity, Jihoon can smell alcohol rolling off him in waves.

"You want a drink, sweetheart?" He coos, and Jihoon scowls at him, wrinkling his nose at the scent of whiskey on the man's breath.

Jihoon doesn't get a chance to answer before someone shoves the man roughly away from Jihoon, tsking. It's another man, about the same height, tan as well but much handsomer than the first.

"Fuck off," The newcomer snaps. "Go bother someone else."

The drunk man curls his lip, but does as he's told, slinking back into the bar that the awning they stand under leads to. Jihoon straightens up, fixing his jacket.

"Thanks," He grumbles, and the man smiles at him. It makes him look even handsomer, and Jihoon's heart skips a beat. He frowns even more at that. He just wants to go home.

"He doesn't mean any harm. I've seen him around before, he just likes to flirt," The man explains. "Are you okay?"

Jihoon nods, shrugging. It's silent for a second as the man just smiles at him, and Jihoon is just starting to feel uncomfortable when he thrusts his hand into Jihoon's personal space and says, "Junhui."

Jihoon purses his lips as he shakes it lightly. "Jihoon."

"Do you want a drink? My treat."

Jihoon tries not to look into his eyes as he replies, "I really shouldn't."

"Come on," Junhui's smile melts into a smirk, and he raises an eyebrow at him. "You look like you could use one."

Jihoon isn't sure if he should be offended by that, but it's hard to stay grumpy when Junhui is looking at him with such a handsome face. Jihoon shrugs, tries to play it off coolly as he says, "Maybe one drink."

 

One drink turns into six bottles of soju emptied between the two of them, leaving Jihoon dizzy and leaning on Junhui's shoulder in a booth in the back of the bar. Junhui doesn't seem at all affected by the alcohol, smiling when Jihoon slurs his words and pushing his hair out of his eyes when he slumps forward slightly. Jihoon likes it. It feels nice.

"Do you want me to keep doing it?" Junhui asks, and it takes Jihoon a moment to realize he'd said his thoughts aloud. He nods, sighing when Junhui cards his fingers through his hair.

"How old are you?" Jihoon mumbles.

Junhui laughs. "How old are _you_?"

Jihoon holds up two fingers on his right, four on his left. Junhui looks amused as he says, "Twenty four?"

"Bingo," Jihoon shoots fingers guns in his general direction, and Junhui laughs.

"I'm just a year older than you," Junhui replies. "Twenty five."

Jihoon makes a face. "Old."

"You think I'm old?"

"Old man. I'm gonna fuck an old man," Jihoon doesn't realize what he says until Junhui doesn't reply for a few moments, and his eyes fly open. "Wait, I don't-" The room is spinning, and he can't seem to find his words to cover his tracks. Junhui just smiles.

"It's okay. This old man just might let you take him home," Junhui says slyly, and Jihoon smiles, reaching out for his glass on the table. It's empty when he lifts it, and he frowns at it, turning it upside down to see if there really wasn't anything in it. Junhui gently takes it and places it back on the table top, taking Jihoon's hand in his own.

"We should probably head home, yeah?" Junhui murmurs, and his voice has taken a soothing tone, dropping an octave. "One drink seems to have gotten to you."

"We had six, I thought?" Jihoon asks drunkenly, not getting the joke until a second too late. "Oh. Never mind."

Junhui laughs again and begins tugging Jihoon out of the booth. "I'm going to pay. Stay here."

"Pay what? I made that dude," Jihoon points at the bartender, a man with a handlebar mustache and slicked back hair. Junhui furrows his brow as he looks between them.

"Made him?"

Jihoon nods. "Yeah. I coded him. I designed him. He's a host," Jihoon throws his arm into the air, waving obnoxiously at the bartender. "How you been, my man?"

The bartender rolls his eyes but smiles at Jihoon, waving back. Junhui frowns.

"Are you a host coder?" Junhui asks as he begins to guide Jihoon out of the bar and back into the rain. The sky is dark now, nighttime rolling in behind the storm clouds. "Where do you live?"

Jihoon points down the street and nods at the same time. "Yeah, coder. That's me. I'm cool, right?"

Junhui snorts as he leads Jihoon along the sidewalk in the direction he pointed. "I've met a coder before. The novelty's worn off already."

"Who was he?" Jihoon demands. "I probably know him."

Junhui shrugs. "I don't remember his name, but I talked to him at the bar once a long time ago. I don't think he was as cool as you, though," He teases, and Jihoon grins stupidly at him.

They arrive at his apartment faster than he thought, and he pouts when Junhui lets go of his arm. "Is this it?"

Jihoon nods, looking down at the sidewalk. "Yeah. You wanna come up for... coffee?"

Junhui quirks a brow. "Coffee?"

"I don't even have any coffee," Jihoon shrugs again, fishing in his pocket for his keys. "You wanna come up to fuck me until I'm sober?"

Junhui doesn't even look surprised, just laughing and saying, "I would be honored."

Jihoon stumbles going up the stairs in his rush, Junhui's laugh echoing in the hallways as he struggles to unlock his door. He bodily pushes it open, and when it hits the wall inside he mutters, "Stupid door."

Junhui kicks off his shoes and follows him through the apartment, pulling off his jacket and hanging it on the hook. Jihoon wanders through his apartment until he reaches his bedroom, wrestling with his jacket. He ends up pulling off his shirt as well, and collapses on his bed, topless and only in his pants and socks.

"Let's go, big boy," Jihoon declares. Junhui leans against his doorframe, looking amused but fond as he watches Jihoon roll around. Jihoon pats the bed beside him, beckoning the elder closer.

Junhui is still chuckling as he begins undoing his belt, approaching the bed. Jihoon spreads his legs, laying spread-eagle and waiting for Junhui to make the first move.

He ends up crawling over Jihoon, eyes darkening as he gets closer. Jihoon swallows, and lets out a heavy exhale when Junhui pushes the hair from his forehead, leaning down so their lips just barely brush. When he finally kisses him, Jihoon feels the room spin even more than before, the alcohol no longer the only cause.

Junhui kisses him softly, slowly, like they're long time lovers, tongue pressing against his own and lips gentle. Jihoon whines low into his mouth, a signal to move faster, but Junhui just smiles against his lips. His hands move from his hair to his chest, running over his skin so lightly Jihoon feels goosebumps prickle his skin. He squirms, and Junhui's free hand settles on his hip, pushing just hard enough to keep him in place.

He pulls away, but just barely, lips traveling down his chin and along the column of his throat. He pauses just at his pulse point, sucking to leave a red mark. Jihoon swallows, can feel Junhui's tongue along his Adam's apple when he does. The elder presses a kiss to the mark and continues traveling down. Jihoon arches his back slightly, chases Junhui's mouth and the way he laughs against his skin and his teeth scrape his hipbone, fingers curling around the hem of his pants.

Slowly, so slowly, Junhui pulls them down, rolling them like he had all the time in the world. Jihoon will deny to his grave that he kicks his feet like a petulant child, pouting until the elder grins and finally pulls them off, taking Jihoon's boxers with them.

Junhui tosses them to the floor, and the younger twists along the sheets, suddenly feeling vulnerable when his cock hits the cold air and bounces slightly on his belly.

Junhui has big hands, and long fingers, and they're warm when they wrap around Jihoon's cock, stroking lazily. His voice sounds even deeper than before, if possible, as he leans down to kiss Jihoon's thigh and murmur, "Do you have lube?"

Jihoon nods in the direction of his nightstand, and Junhui nods as well, a cue for him to get it himself. He scrambles across the bed, digging through his drawers until he finds the small blue bottle. He tosses it at Junhui without looking, and surprisingly, the elder catches it. Jihoon crawls back to him, and Junhui sucks in a breath as he nears.

"Fuck," He breathes. "You're so sexy."

Jihoon doesn't think he'd ever describe himself as _sexy_ , but fuck it, if that's what Junhui wants. He tugs at Junhui's jeans when he reaches him, leaning down to mouth along his neck.

"Take these off," Jihoon whispers, and he means for it to sound sexy but it comes out sounding more whiney than anything. Junhui nods, wiggling out of his jeans and somehow managing to get them off with Jihoon half in his lap.

Jihoon sucks along Junhui's neck until he can hear the pop of the bottle opening, and Junhui spreading it over his fingers. He swings his legs so his knees are resting beside the elder's hips, linking his hands behind Junhui's head. He can feel Junhui’s hand running along the curve of his ass, sticky with lube, and he sucks in a breath, leaning down to kiss the elder.

“Come on,” Jihoon mumbles. “Just do it.”

Junhui exhales a breathy laugh into his mouth, but does as he’s told. The first finger feels like more of stretch than Jihoon’s used to (he’s begrudging to admit it’s been awhile), and he winces, hiding it in Junhui’s neck. But then the elder is wrapping his hand around the younger’s cock again, stroking firmly, and Jihoon melts against him.

He doesn’t need to ask when he wants a second. Junhui must be able to tell from the rolling of Jihoon’s hips down onto his hands that he’s ready for another, and when he does add it Jihoon gasps against his skin, breathing hot into it. Junhui’s hand matches the pace, stroking him as he thrusts his fingers, and Jihoon feels like he’s on fire.

He barely feels it when he adds a third, pushing back against him and letting out noises he would most definitely be embarrassed about were he sober, when Junhui removes his hand.

“Wait,” Jihoon gasps, scrambling to ground himself. The emptiness he feels surprises himself, and Junhui seems to take notice because he rests his hand on Jihoon’s cheek as he lifts him slightly off his lap with the other on his hip.

“Shh,” Junhui soothes. Jihoon feels the brush of Junhui’s own cock against his ass, feels it pull at his entrance and he moans. Junhui’s eyes look glassy as Jihoon takes matters into his own hand and aligns himself, starting a slow descent down.

The stretch burns, crawling up Jihoon's spine and mixing with the pleasure pooling in his stomach. He sinks lower despite it, relishing in the blown out look Junhui gives him as he watches his own cock disappear into Jihoon.

When he bottoms out, they're still, silence except for Jihoon's panting. Junhui looks like he's not even breathing, face blank, until Jihoon shifts slightly and the elder lets out a deep groan.

"Fuck," Jihoon mutters.

"Yeah," Is all Junhui can reply.

Jihoon starts slow, raising his hips just a bit and sitting back down. They both moan in unison when he does, and the burning in his spine is slowly numbing out and being replaced by more pleasure. His pace grows as Junhui's reactions do, the elder groaning into Jihoon's mouth while the younger bounces on his cock. Jihoon's thighs are just starting to feel tired when Junhui suddenly pistons his hips up, and hits something inside Jihoon that makes his eyes roll back into his head.

"Fuck," He gasps. "Do it again."

Junhui nods, watching his face as he does it again, and again, fucking up into Jihoon until the younger is seeing stars, clawing at Junhui's shoulders trying to find something solid to hold on to.

"Close?" Junhui asks, and his voice is surprisingly controlled, still in that deep baritone from before. Jihoon shivers as the elder mouths along his neck, nipping at his jawline, and nods. Junhui takes it as his cue to curl his fingers loosely around Jihoon's cock, jerking him off along with his fast paced thrusts. Jihoon starts whimpering, a strung out noise that just keeps getting louder as his impending release builds higher and higher in his stomach. Just as he's about to come, Junhui jerks violently, spilling inside him. The elder bites down on Jihoon's shoulder, and everything comes to a climax as bright white light explodes behind his eyes, his orgasm hitting him like a truck and making everything around him cloudy.

A second later he comes back down, heart racing and skin sticky with sweat. He blinks a few times, pulling away from Junhui. Junhui grins up at him, skin glowing, looking fucked out and beautiful. Jihoon can't help but smile back.

"Wow," He croaks out, and then clears his throat. When he looks down, there are streaks of come along Junhui's stomach and chest. Jihoon flushes. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Junhui says, and his voice is still steady despite a mind blowing orgasm, which Jihoon is jealous of. "You looked really hot when you came."

Jihoon's face turns even pinker, and he smacks Junhui against the shoulder weakly. "Shut up."

"Feeling sober yet?" Junhui asks. He slowly pulls out, and Jihoon makes a face at the squelching noise that it causes. He flops down on the bed once Junhui's out, body limp and still thrumming from his release.

"I'm just tired," He mumbles into the sheets. He hears Junhhui stand and leave the room, presumably to look for the bathroom, but he's back within the minute with tissues. Jihoon smirks lazily up at him. "What a gentleman."

Junhui snorts as he wipes his own come off Jihoon's ass and Jihoon's off his stomach. "Chivalry isn't dead."

Jihoon pats the bed beside him; He's on top of the sheets and the comforter, but honestly, he didn't really mind. He still felt too hot and sweaty. "Let's sleep."

Junhui doesn't question it, just climbs back in next to him. Jihoon's grateful he doesn't have to answer any awkward one night stand questions, and that it seemed like the elder wasn't planning on leaving right after sex. He tries to spoon Junhui, but his knees are against the elder's thighs because Junhui has almost a full head on him, and it just makes Junhui laugh until Jihoon hits him in the arm and tells him to go to sleep. Jihoon drifts asleep himself moments later, feeling warm and sated, enjoying Junhui's soft breathing against his own.

 

Jihoon wakes first. It must still be cloudy out, because the light creeping through his blinds is cold and dreary, and instead of hitting Junhui's face softly, it cuts across his tan cheekbones like a knife. He takes a moment to stretch, wincing at the ache in his backside and the stinging on his neck. Junhui shifts just slightly beside him, burying his nose into Jihoon's pillow. Jihoon smiles at him and gets to his feet, sliding into his slippers and heading to the bathroom.

As he brushes his teeth, he replays the night before in his mind. Bits are missing, and it's like looking through stained glass as he tries to remember those parts, but he doesn't mind much. He feels his face heat up when he remembers Junhui calling him sexy, and when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror with a mouthful of foamy toothpaste and cheeks red, he glares at himself.

"You're gross," He mumbles at his own reflection, which just glowers back at him. He spits and rinses his mouth, avoiding looking directly into the mirror. When he passes through his bedroom again, Junhui is still asleep, in the same position as before as though even in his sleep he were mindful of another person in the same bed and didn't want to take up too much space. Jihoon thinks that's cute; most people would've spread out across the sheets given the opportunity to sleep alone, even if it were subconscious.

He heads into the living room instead, searching for his bag from the night before. He'd dumped it on the couch haphazardly, and he curses his drunk self for being so careless. The half made prototype of the unclassified host detector was in that bag, and even after six bottles of soju he should've been more attentive with it.

He pulls it out gently, placing it on the table and then dumping the rest of the contents out beside it. Loose screws roll onto the floor, a few broken bits of metal clinking on the wooden floors, his screwdriver dropping onto his foot. He curses under his breath, picking it up and placing it beside the prototype. From the bags front pocket, he pulls out the blueprints and spreads them out on the other half of the table.

Quite a bit of time must pass, because sunlight peeks through the living room shades by the time Junhui pads out of his bedroom, rubbing his forehead and looking a bit confused in just a pair of boxers that were definitely way too tight on him.

"Those are mine," Jihoon comments, eyeing the blue boxers and how nicely they shape Junhui's ass. Junhui looks down at them, squinting.

"So they are," He finally says, looking back up. He grins lazily at Jihoon, who smiles in return, looking back down at the chip he was encoding into the prototype. Junhui glances at the mess but doesn't comment on it, instead turning to change back into his own clothes.

"Do you have coffee?" He calls through the walls, and then, after a beat, "Oh, wait, you said you don't."

It takes Jihoon a second to understand, but when he does he feels himself flush. "I have some instant coffee in the pantry."

"Ah, so you're one of those people who lies when their drunk," Junhui teases, re-emerging in his own boxers and sweater. He winks at Jihoon, who can feel his ears turning red, and moves into the kitchen with ease, like it were his own home. Jihoon doesn't really mind, despite the fact that the elder was more than anything a stranger he'd just met (and fucked) yesterday. He kind of likes it.

He listens to Junhui turn on the water and open the pantry, his footsteps soft on the tiles while Jihoon counts the seconds for the small red light to start blinking and screws the last piece into place. The prototype looks a bit like a gun, sleek black with a handle and a horizontal protruded head, but no hole for bullets, instead lined with a display counter and multiple light switches and buttons. The couch dips beside him when Junhui sits down, and the smell of cheap coffee fills his nose.

"What's that?" Junhui asks, taking a slow sip.

Jihoon clears his throat. “Top secret,” He replies seriously, but Junhui huffs in response and he can’t help but smile. He turns to look at him, almost startling at how close the elder is, their faces just a foot or so apart. Junhui blows on his coffee, looking at Jihoon expectantly. For a moment, Jihoon can't speak; up close, in the daylight, he's almost hypnotized by the natural beauty Junhui possesses. After a few seconds, Junhui takes another loud sip, and Jihoon is shaken from his daze.

"Can I kiss you?" Jihoon blurts out, and Junhui doesn't even blink.

"Depends," He says, and Jihoon's heart pounds. The elder looks up at him from behind his lashes and smiles slyly. "Do you like the taste of instant coffee?"

Jihoon rolls his eyes, taking the opportunity to reach out and cup Junhui's face with one hand. Junhui lowers his mug, leaning forward, and Jihoon closes the rest of the distance to kiss him.

He forgot he was almost done counting, and suddenly the prototype's alarm begins blaring in his hands, startling them both and making Junhui hit his forehead against Jihoon's chin.

"Sorry!" He gasps, reaching out to gently rub Jihoon's chin, but Jihoon is glaring down at the prototype, the little red light flickering rapidly at the base of the head.

"Piece of shit," Jihoon snaps, hitting it against his hand firmly. The alarm continues, and he curses, tossing it to the floor and slumping back into the couch with a groan.

"Is it broken?" Junhui asks, peering at the hunk of metal flashing and beeping.

Jihoon nods gloomily. "It's supposed to go off when a host is within five feet of it," He kicks it, and immediately regrets it, his foot throbbing a second later. "Fuck."

"Oh," Junhui murmurs. He leans back, shoulder pressing against Jihoon's own, and sipping his coffee. After a long moment, he says, "It works, then."

"What?" Jihoon asks, only half listening.

"It works," Junhui repeats, at the same time Jihoon realizes the implications of his words. He turns to look at Junhui, mouth half open in surprise. Junhui is watching him, face blank other than wary looking eyes, holding his mug close to his face.

"You're a host?" Jihoon asks, and Junhui nods.

"Yeah."

Jihoon is silent for a split second before he says, "That's cool. Can I kiss you again?"

Junhui's face melts into a look of relief, and he laughs, throwing his head back when he does. "Of course."

 

Junhui’s left and it’s early afternoon, Jihoon still wandering his apartment trying to find the folder of paperwork another coder, Soonyoung, had given him a few days ago. He’s digging through the piles and piles of papers on his bedroom desk when he spies a small, square envelope on the right bottom corner, placed neatly into so it aligns with the desk, with his name printed on the front, in a handwriting he recognizes almost instantly. Wonwoo’s handwriting.

He doesn't remember ever getting this from him, and it's crisp and not bent anywhere which means it must be new. Except Wonwoo hadn't visited him for almost three months, and he had disappeared yesterday.

Jihoon sits on the edge of his bed and rips it open a little too earnestly. It's a handwritten letter, with the stationary the company gives all the coders, the little crest of Seungcheol's family name on the top left corner. In Wonwoo's scribbled handwriting, he reads:

 

_Jihoon,_

_I'm sorry I gave you no explanation, but you need to trust me. I've left something important to me in your keep, and I hope you will cherish it as much as I cherish you. If all goes well, we will meet again one day, and we can both have what we want without ramification._

_Wonwoo_

 

Jihoon would laugh at how overly dramatic Wonwoo sounded (everything Wonwoo had ever done in the time Jihoon had known him had been done over the top, with a flourish), but something bothers him. _I've left something important to me in your keep._

Jihoon glances up at his desk, as though expecting whatever that important thing was to magically appear before him. It does not, and he's left mulling it over, sifting through items in his head that Wonwoo had given him in the past. Nothing comes to mind, and by the time he comes to his senses he's almost two hours late.

 

Seungcheol drops a manila folder on the desk beside Jihoon's tablet. He raises a brow at it, but otherwise does not deter from his work; a young host named Hansol sitting before him, blood dripping from his nose and a huge gash wound on the side of his head.

"What's that?" Jihoon asks without looking up. Hansol sits stark naked, frozen, face blank even as dark red liquid pools into his mouth and leaks from his lips.

"The list of unclassifieds," Seungcheol replies, eyeing Hansol. "What happened to him?"

"Knife fight," Jihoon says, as he reads through the coding of Hansol's memories.

"He's just a kid, though?"

Jihoon snorts. "He may be just a kid but he's got the personality of a full grown thug. He's been picking fights with other kids on the streets. This is his third strike."

Seungcheol tsks, circling around Hansol. He leans in to inspect the gash, murmuring, "Unfreeze."

Hansol jerks back to life, immediately spitting a mouthful of blood in Jihoon's direction. It splatters his lab coat and onto his face and glasses, and he scowls at Seungcheol. Seungcheol just laughs.

"What is it?" He asks, pointing at Hansol, who's now wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, glaring between the two elders.

"Hansol," Jihoon supplies, taking off his glasses to wipe them with his shirt.

"Hansol," Seungcheol coos. Hansol face twists into a sneer. "Why did you get into a knife fight?"

"Why does it matter to you?" Hansol snaps back, and Seungcheol looks surprised, straightening up and looking at Jihoon.

"He's got some edge to him," He says matter-of-factly, and Jihoon snorts the same time Hansol snarls, "I'm right here, asshole."

Seungcheol ignores him completely, holding out his hand for Jihoon's tablet. Jihoon hands it over, watches Seungcheol scroll slowly through Hansol's coding.

"What was his position?" Seungcheol asks.

"I coded him to be stronger than most hosts, and with a more prominent moral and ethical code," Jihoon explains. "I'd placed him in a women's shelter, and he was helping protect the women there, but he started," Jihoon clears his throat. "Doing more than he needed to do when it came to anyone who abused them."

Seungcheol raises a brow. "Like getting into a knife fight with them?"

"More like... shooting them in the crotch so they'd lose half their dick and both testicles."

Hansol grins at that, teeth still stained with blood, and Seungcheol looks at him with an almost amused expression.

"Do you know who we are, Hansol?" Seungcheol directs his attention fully to the host.

"Coders?" Hansol says, a lilt to the word as though he weren't sure. His eyes flicker to Jihoon, unsure. "He made me, right?"

Jihoon nods, the same time Seungcheol suddenly raises his hand and smacks it violently against the side of Hansol's head, right where the open wound was. Jihoon jumps, and Hansol flinches, blood spraying along the side of his face and the examination table top. He looks like he's about to curse at Seungcheol, but the look on Seungcheol's face stops him as the elder pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and begins cleaning off the hand he used to hit him.

"If you know who we are," Seungcheol begins, and his voice has become monotone, a bit deeper, face blank as he wipes the blood from between his fingers. "Than why have you disobeyed your creators more than once?"

Hansol looks wary, nervously glancing back at Jihoon. Jihoon can't do anything, still just as surprised that Seungcheol had struck the host.

"I asked you a question," Seungcheol says. "Answer me, Hansol."

Hansol straightens, turns his head so he's looking directly at Seungcheol, the command making him move without hesitation. "They deserved it."

"They deserved it?" Seungcheol repeats. "And that qualifies as reason for you to disobey your  creators? Not once, but now, three times?"

Hansol nods. Seungcheol sighs. Jihoon holds his breath, waiting.

Seungcheol puts the tablet down beside Hansol and turns to Jihoon. "You're going to deactivate him, yes?"

Jihoon nods.

"If you don't mind, just send me a copy of his coding before you do. I'd like to go over it myself to see if I can find any catches we may have missed that caused this."

"Yeah, okay," Jihoon stands and fumbles with the tablet, fingers shaking just the slightest when drops of blood speckle the examination table beside him from Hansol's head wound. Hansol says nothing, watching them both. Seungcheol moves to leave, but before he does, he taps the manila folder he had originally come to deliver.

"Make sure you read this," He says, voice serious, and Jihoon nods quickly in response. Seungcheol strides out, and the minute the glass doors close in his wake, Hansol's grabbing Jihoon's arm, grip tight.

"You're going to deactivate me?" He asks, and when Jihoon looks at him his face reads panic, eyes wet with tears. "What did I do wrong?"

"You hurt people, Hansol," Jihoon sighs. "You hurt people more than you should have."

"They deserved it," Hansol whispers. "They deserved to be hurt. They deserved to die."

Jihoon shakes his head, gently removing Hansol's hand from his bicep. "You're not supposed to think like that. Hosts are not supposed to wish death on humans."

"Why not?" Hansol demands, voice wobbling. "We're supposed to be just like them, aren't we? Humans wish death upon themselves all the time."

Jihoon frowns at him. "I've never wished death upon another human."

"Well, then, you're not human."

Jihoon rubs his head, sighing again. He stands, moving to put his tablet down and open the manila folder Seungcheol gave him. "I am a human, Hansol, and you don't seem to understand what I'm saying to you, a host. Which is another reason why you're being deactivated."

"That's not fair," Hansol breathes, and he seems to be crying now from the break in his voice, but Jihoon doesn't look up. "That's not fair, I want to live."

Jihoon doesn't answer him. He's staring down at the folder, at the spread out papers with the six released unclassifieds profiles. There were photos on each one, their information and personalities and bugs that had caused them to be listed as unclassifieds, but Jihoon is staring at one in particular. The very first one, on top of the pile.

Personality traits; kind, expressive, strong willed, protective, peaceful. Visual traits; tall, tan skin, warm eyes, tall nose, big smile.

Name; Wen Junhui.

 

The deactivation process involves strapping a host to an upright examination table and using a sort of drill to cut their internal core drive from their coding. The connection was located directly between their eyes, just under the bridge of their nose, and as such the drill needed to be inserted into their nostrils to do its work. However, the host has to be connected for this to happen, so that the drill can sever the internal core drive while in motion and stop it in it’s tracks.

Hansol does not want to be deactivated. It’s obvious to anyone from the way he thrashes against his restraints, eyes panicked, hurling curse words in every language he knows at Jihoon and Soonyoung, who stand before him. Jihoon watches Hansol out of the corner of his eye as Soonyoung prepares the drill, humming to himself as though Hansol’s shouting was deaf to his ears.

Jihoon had witnessed the deactivation process many times before, but each time brings a slight twinge to his chest; not one that, as he stated before, would indicate he were emotionally involved with his hosts, but more of one out of pity. They were, when all things were said and done, supposed to be just like humans despite their lacking in their emotional catalogue. Jihoon had seen hosts cry before deactivation, or, like Hansol, scream and yell. Jihoon had never seen a host go down without a fight, because the ones that did need to be deactivated were always on another emotional level than regular hosts.

“How long does this usually take?” Jihoon asks. He knows the answer to it. Only about a minute.

“Probably a minute, but maybe more if he keeps fighting like that,” Soonyoung answers cheerily. He spins the drill a few inches from his eyes, squinting at it. “This damn thing isn’t straight.”

Jihoon nods, even though Soonyoung hadn't said anything directed at him. Every few minutes his thoughts would flit back to the manila folder in his office, the paper with Junhui's picture and information on it, and his heart would drop into his stomach, panic setting in his veins.

It makes sense, when he thinks about it. The emotions Junhui portrayed, especially when they had sex (Jihoon tries not to use the phrase _make love_ because it makes him cringe, but it flits through his mind before he can stop it), and just the way he carried himself in general. It was all almost too human, and the fact that Jihoon couldn't recognize he was a host until Junhui told him was an even bigger clue that the elder was something of Wonwoo's design. Wonwoo had always been obsessed with the emotional range Seungcheol allowed on hosts, and Jihoon wasn't surprised that he had secretly coded his own host without their boss knowing, and had successfully passed it for human to the point even a fellow coder couldn't identify it.

Soonyoung gets to his feet then, shaking Jihoon from his thoughts. "Alright, it's ready," He glances at Hansol, still thrashing, no longer shouting but just glaring at the man as though daring him to approach with the drill in hand. "I think you're going to need to clear his memories so that he doesn't move around while I make the incision."

"Right," Jihoon moves to get his tablet from the table. Hansol's anger is slowly melting into a look of sheer terror as his demise looms closer. He looks like he's going to cry, and Jihoon takes pity on him. "Control your emotional stall, Hansol."

The younger's eyes dry, back straightening and face blanking out. He stares back at Jihoon, eyes emotionless and still for the first time since he'd been tied down.

"Oh, that works, too," Soonyoung laughs. "I always forget you can command them with specific phrases."

He laughs again like it's funnier than it is, approaching Hansol and gripping his chin in one hand. He turns the drill on, sliding it up Hansol's left nostril without hesitation, eyes focused as he holds Hansol's head in place. The light in Hansol's eyes starts to slowly fade, mouth opening just the slightest.

Jihoon suddenly thinks of Junhui, and his blood runs cold. He has to look down at his hands until Soonyoung's finished, and he tries not to look at Hansol's body until he can leave.

 

Jihoon decides not to tell Seungcheol anything. He’d decided it the minute he’d seen Junhui name printed boldly on the paper, and he even goes out of his way to avoid running into his boss as the day progresses. He ends up staying late, because he knows he always bumps into Seungcheol when he usually leaves. He stays hidden in his office a solid hour and a half after he’s supposed to leave, and when he does he practically sprints out of the building, barely even nodding at a surprised looking Seokmin when he passes him.

He digs through his bag when he’s outside a few blocks away from the building. He’s trying to find the bent up and old pack of cigarettes at the bottom of it. He doesn’t smoke often, but sometimes, on days like these, when he can’t seem to get his thoughts to settle and everything swirls in his head like the eye of a storm, he needs that nicotine to stay calm.

He’s just found the pack and stuck one between his teeth, and as he digs for the lighter in his bag he vaguely thinks the cigarettes have gone stale based on the unlit taste of it alone. Not that he cares, but he’s probably right. He doesn’t know how long they’ve been in his bag.

Before he can find it, someone holds out a lighter, flipping it open and holding it to his cigarette for him. He inhales before thinking, lighting it up, and the lighter flips closed. When he glances up, sure enough, it's Junhui. When he glances around, he realizes he's outside the same bar from yesterday. Of course.

Junhui smiles at him, and he looks tired, smudges of purple just beneath his eyes. Hosts don't get tired; they can sleep but lack thereof won't affect them physically or physiologically. But Junhui wasn't a regular host, and Jihoon doesn't know what Wonwoo could've coded him to be. He could need sleep. He could be an insomniac. He could be anything.

"You smoke?" Junhui asks, looking amused at the way Jihoon just stares at him with his burning cigarette hanging from his lips.

Jihoon nods, dazed, and exhales. Great plumes of smoke dissipate between them, and Junhui barely even blinks from it.

"Smoking's bad for you," Junhui teases, and Jihoon snorts.

"You're bad for me," He says back. Junhui raises a brow but doesn't comment further.

They stand together in silence while Jihoon finishes his cigarette, leaning against the awning of the bar and watching people come in and out.

"Rough day?" Junhui finally says, when the cigarette is only a filter and Jihoon probably shouldn't still have it in his mouth. Jihoon nods, spitting the butt out and stepping on it with the heel of his shoe. Junhui follows it with his eyes, continuing, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"A bunch of unclassifieds got loose a few days ago," Jihoon mutters. He doesn't look at Junhui as he says it.

"What are unclassifieds?" Junhui asks, and Jihoon furrows his brow.

"Hosts that haven't passed the test to be released into the public yet." Jihoon clears his throat and looks up at Junhui, and the elders face shows nothing that indicates he knows he's an unclassified. Instead, he just looks a bit worried as he tries to read Jihoon's face as well.

"Will they hurt people?" Junhui asks.

Jihoon shrugs. "Not all of them, but some."

They’re both silent again, Jihoon trying to figure out if Junhui truly doesn’t realize he’s an unclassified, and Junhui seemingly mulling over the idea of hosts that behaved or were programmed outside the societal norm.

“You wanna drink? I’ll buy this time,” Jihoon eventually asks, and Junhui nods quickly.

 

The following week passes in an almost eerily similar pattern; Jihoon will attend work, spending most of his time avoiding Seungcheol, and slip out before he could get spotted, changing the time he left each day so as to make himself seem less suspicious (maybe Seungcheol would think he was just working a lot instead of evading entirely him if he wasn’t leaving at the exact same time everyday, Jihoon reasons.) Jihoon will find himself outside the same bar, and Junhui will be there, no matter the time. Jihoon doesn’t think Junhui spends his day there; rather, the host seemed to know exactly when Jihoon would be leaving work, despite it changing day to day, and would show up there to wait for him. They’d share a drink, or six, or eight, depending on how bad a day Jihoon had, and Jihoon would talk.

Junhui never had much to share of his life. Almost as though he weren’t sure of certain details, like when he was created, who created him, what his original position was in society, etc. Jihoon knows why he can’t remember, but he never says anything, instead occupying his mouth with another shot of whiskey and pretending to be just as clueless as Junhui as to how a host could lose such memories.

Jihoon overshares, he thinks, but something about the elder had him spilling his innermost thoughts. He’s careful to steer clear of anything involving Wonwoo or Seungcheol or the unclassifieds, despite Junhui asking once or twice about how the investigation was going. He talks about his parents, who passed when he was young, and his lack of friends in general. The loneliness he gets sometimes, the way his bones ache when it rains. How he codes, the emotional range of humans compared to hosts, and why he likes whiskey so much (it’s easier to take down than gin, and gets rid of his headaches).

It’s exactly one week since Seungcheol told him of Wonwoo’s disappearance, and five days since he’s started avoiding him, that his boss finally corners him in the elevator at work, the doors closing before Jihoon could think of a reason to escape.

“Ignoring me?” Seungcheol asks, almost cheerily, smiling at the younger. Jihoon tries not to let the panic show on his face, and shakes his head quickly.

“No, I’ve just been busy,” Jihoon lies through his teeth. Seungcheol laughs like it’s a joke, and it makes Jihoon uncomfortable.

“I’m just teasing,” Seungcheol says. “Any progress on the host detector I asked about?”

“Yeah, I actually finished up a prototype,” Jihoon frowns. “But I think it’s broken, because the first day it seemed to only go off around hosts, but now it goes off anytime I turn it on.”

Seungcheol nods, face serious. “It’d probably be best to work on while around hosts and humans, so it’s easier to program and has examples to go off of while you do.” The elevator dings, and Seungcheol steps out, holding the door open with one hand. He smiles at Jihoon. “Best of luck, Lee.”

Jihoon smiles shakily back, and when the elder pulls his hand away and the doors close he lets out a long sigh of relief, slumping against the wall. He really needed a whiskey.

 

That night, Jihoon has a dream about Wonwoo. He’s in Wonwoo’s office, and he’s arguing with the other. Wonwoo keeps shouting things at Jihoon, like orders, demanding he follow Wonwoo’s instructions, and Jihoon keeps yelling back. He can’t make out any of the words they’re saying; it all sounds muffled, almost like he’s underwater, and he sees the fight from an outside point of view as though he were looking on through a window. He watches when Wonwoo shoves him, hard, and he slaps Wonwoo across the face, shouting something. Wonwoo looks furious, and immediately launches himself at Jihoon, reigning blows on him.

He feels a bit terrified watching, but he can’t place the feeling as exactly that. He’s never had a fight with Wonwoo, and even in his unconscious state he still recognizes this is a dream, but he’s not sure what it means.

The fight is physical and violent in it’s purest form, blood splattering between them as they hit with blows meant to damage. Someone taps on Jihoon’s shoulder than, his real shoulder, not the one that was currently pressed to the ground by Wonwoo’s elbow, and when he turns Junhui is there, inches from his face.

He jolts awake with a gasp, covered in sweat and feeling far too hot. Beside him, the indent in the other side of bed seems empty without Junhui filling it- He hadn’t been at the bar, tonight, which Jihoon wasn’t worried about. They’d seen each other almost every night since they’d met, so he was sure Junhui needed a break from him.

He’s glad the elder wasn’t with him tonight, he thinks when he’s standing in the dark in his kitchen, holding a glass of water and staring blankly at the wall. He wasn’t sure how he’d react if he’d woken from a dream where Junhui was inches from his face, only to find the real one just as close. Probably have a heart attack, if he were being honest.

He can’t fall back asleep, and so he spends a few hours tinkering with the host detector. It blares loudly whenever he turns it on, no matter how he programs it, and he finally gives up around five am as the sun's coming up, tossing it on the floor and glaring at it with all the bitterness he could muster this early.

 

Jihoon wishes he didn’t come into work when he finds Jieqiong waiting for him in his office. She stands back straight, staring at the door with an almost dazed look until Jihoon opens the door, and she blinks a few times, coming to.

“Dr. Choi would like to see you,” She purrs in her accented voice, and Jihoon just nods. She strides forward, brushing past him, and he immediately turns and follows. He would rather just go with her than put up a fight; he wasn’t sure how Seungcheol had had Jieqiong coded and for all he knew, she could crack his skull like it was a walnut if she wanted to.

Instead of Seungcheol’s office, she leads him to one of the laboratories. He never really liked the laboratories: like before, the only times he really had to go in them were when one of his hosts had to be deactivated, and someone like Soonyoung needed assistance. They were too empty and too metallic, and smelled like hospitals, and were usually so empty except for small pieces of equipment and examination tables that it was almost eerie.

Seungcheol’s sitting on a stool, scrolling through his own tablet, and when they enter he stands, smiling at Jihoon. He pats the stool, gesturing for the younger to sit. Jihoon does, gingerly, the cold of the metal seeping through his pants. He hates it down here.

“Thank you, Jieqiong,” Seungcheol says. “You may go.”

Jieqiong bows, escorting herself out. When the door closes behind her, the silence that follows is too thick and makes Jihoon’s ears ring.

“Jihoon,” Seungcheol finally says, and he sighs. Jihoon doesn’t like the sound of it. “We need to talk.”

Jihoon clears his throat. “About what?”

Seungcheol leans against the examination table and looking down at him with an unamused expression. “You know what.”

Jihoon stays silent, trying to maintain eye contact. Seungcheol sighs again when the younger doesn’t answer, and he picks up his tablet, swiping and tapping. Jihoon begins to get to his feet, hoping he could slowly pick his way out of the room subtly.

“Sit down,” Seungcheol snaps, looking up with sharp eyes, and something suddenly overtakes Jihoon, violently. Like he can’t control his own body, he feels himself moving to sit down robotically. He’s unable to move when he does, frozen in place, and alarm rushes through his veins. Seungcheol is watching him with a grimace, watches him struggle and panic.

“Did you just-” Jihoon tries to control his breathing, gasping. “Did you just... command me-”

“Jihoon, you’re going to tell me what you know about the unclassifieds,” Seungcheol orders, placing his tablet down beside him again and crossing his arms. “Tell me the truth.”

Once again, like an otherworldly force is controlling him, Jihoon feels words spilling from his mouth without his permission. Everything, about Junhui, about him knowing he was an unclassified, about avoiding Seungcheol so as not to let him onto it, about keeping it a secret. As he speaks, he struggles vehemently, trying to force his mouth closed, but something won’t let him, the words pouring out of him without trouble despite his fighting. When he’s finished, he’s panting, sweating, and he feels sick.

“What’s going on?” He breathes. “What’s happening to me?”

Seungcheol presses his lips into a thin line, regarding Jihoon with interest. “Wonwoo created you years ago as a database for human emotion,” He begins.

“Created me?” Jihoon almost shrieks, and Seungcheol mutters, “Be quiet,” and immediately it’s like something is holding Jihoon’s lips together, his vocal chords frozen, unable to speak.

“Like I was saying, Wonwoo created you years ago as a database for human emotion. He’d been coding ranges that didn’t follow regulation, and he knew I would never allow him to experiment or test them on any of our hosts, so he made his own,” He gestures to Jihoon, up and down. “Which would be you.”

Jihoon feels like he’s going to throw up, stuck in place, silent. He can feel his eyes welling up with tears.

“Each coding update he created was tested on you,” Seungcheol continues. He laughs to himself. “I honestly didn’t realize it until the most recent one, about a month ago. I confronted him about it and demanded he deactivate you and stop, but he refused. He said he’d coded other hosts with the same update without me knowing, and he’d release them if I tried anything.” Seungcheol pauses, giving Jihoon that same look of interest from before. “I found out he’d simply removed the coding in you that required you to follow the same command phrases as regular hosts, so I coded it into you myself. And I tried to have you kill him.”

At these words, Jihoon has almost violent flashbacks to his dream the other night. Fighting Wonwoo, hitting him with blows that were aimed to hurt- blows aimed to kill.

“Unfortunately, it seemed he hadn’t made you that strong, so he escaped. But not before he released the hosts he had given the update, and, apparently, leaving one in your care. Junhui, I think it is?”

Jihoon swallows hard, and Seungcheol lets out a noise that sounds almost like a laugh. “Oh, I forgot. You may speak now.”

The younger lets out a gasp as he feels his voice return, and immediately snarls, “Where’s Junhui?!”

Seungcheol raises a brow. “All that, and all you care about is Junhui?” He shrugs. “I guess Wonwoo really is a romantic. I think he was worried you were lonely and wanted to make a partner for you.”

Jihoon wants to spit at him, but that would most likely only further make his current situation more fucked. He grinds his teeth together, glaring at Seungcheol, who looks amused.

“There’s just... this thing,” Seungcheol starts again. He picks up his tablet. “The most recent of Wonwoo’s updates seems to have malfunctioned, and caused the hosts to simply lose all emotion whatsoever,” He looks up at Jihoon, then, eyes dark. “That renders you useless, Jihoon. We’ll have to deactivate you.”

“That’s not fair,” Jihoon breathes, and he hears a voice echo it in his mind- Hansol, when he was being deactivated and begging for his life.

“Life isn’t fair,” Seungcheol responds, looking back down at his tablet. “Freeze.”

 

“U-unfreeze.”

Jihoon jerks awake, light flooding his senses. Almost like awoken from sleep, it takes him a disoriented moment to see where he is. In a laboratory, strapped to an upright examination table. Before him stood Soonyoung, looking on unsurely, drill in hand, and to his left-

Junhui. Face blank, strapped down as well, looking straight ahead with dull, dull eyes.

“Junhui,” Jihoon breathes, and if he stretches his fingers he can grip Junhui’s hand in his own, their tables almost touching.

“Are you really a host, Jihoon?” Soonyoung asks softly. Jihoon looks back at him, and the elder’s eyes are wet. “Really, really?”

Jihoon just stares at him. Soonyoung wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffling.

“I don’t wanna do this,” Soonyoung mumbles. “Seungcheol said you’re malfunctioned, and if I don’t you could hurt someone, and-”

“Do me before Junhui, okay?” Jihoon cuts him off, voice low. “Deactivate me first.”

Soonyoung looks like he’s having an internal struggle, but he nods anyway. “Okay.”

He moves to prepare the drill, typing away on his own tablet. Jihoon turns his head to look at Junhui again.

“Junhui,” He whispers. He squeezes Junhui’s hand, and the elder very slowly turns his head to look at Jihoon. His face gives no indication he recognizes Jihoon, and Jihoon can feel his eyes sting with tears when he realizes this. “Junhui, what happened to you?”

Junhui stays expressionless. In front of them, Jihoon hears the drill whir to life in Soonyoung’s hand. He swallows the lump in his throat, holding Junhui’s hand even tighter. He’s never thought of himself to be a fearful man, but in this moment, he was terrified. “I’m sorry I got us into this mess. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you,” His eyes are starting to overflow, a single tear slipping down his cheek. “Sorry, Junhui.”

Junhui’s face stays expressionless, even as Jihoon starts to cry fully. Even as Soonyoung approaches, even as Jihoon feels the drill slide into his right nostril, and something tick inside him. It’s almost like a light is fading, blackness tinting the edges of his vision.

Only when it’s overtaking him, a pinprick of light the only thing he can see through the tunneling blackness, he feels Junhui very, very lightly squeeze his hand back.

 

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on twitter @ballerinaten


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